


Celebration

by Manu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Massage, Unbeta'd, inktober prompts, personal fictober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16480403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manu/pseuds/Manu
Summary: Oliver gets a win. In more ways than one.





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> Personal "Fictober" challenge of taking [Inktober's prompts](https://twitter.com/inktober/status/1035886145173745664) and writing something short for each and posting them daily. Ships, fandoms and everything else will vary. Patently unbeta'd.
> 
>  
> 
> Day 17: swollen

At least he had the dormitory all to himself, and the thick door blocked out most of the sound from downstairs. He very much approved of Quidditch; he wasn’t too keen on prolonged post-match celebrations. Especially Gryffindor post-match celebrations... Particularly we-finally-won-the-Cup-after-years-and-years Gryffindor post-match celebrations…

Percy really needed to send out those applications before tomorrow morning. All that N.E.W.T.s revising had consumed his time.

The door opened. The obnoxious festive noise spilled into the room. Percy looked up, irritated, then confused, then concerned.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Oh, sorry,” Oliver replied, grimacing. “Thought it was empty, everyone’s downstairs.”

“Are you alright?” Percy repeated, seeing Oliver sit with difficulty on his bed.

“Yeah,” Oliver said, struggling to shrug. “Just a bit swollen and, well, in pain.”

“What happened?”

“Guess I went too hard on the match,” he said, taking off his shoes. “It’s not that I didn’t trust Harry, but…”

“I see,” Percy said, looking at him over his glasses. Oliver looked happy, happy and exhausted.

“I won’t bother you,” Oliver said, his eyes closed. After a moment’s deliberation, he decided to just lie on the bed, fully dressed still on his Quidditch robes. “I know those applications are very important for you,” he mumbled, already drifting away.

Percy looked at his desk, at the very important papers indeed. He looked back at Oliver. He sighed.

“Come on, then,” he said.

“What?” Oliver said, half-asleep.

“If we don’t do something, you’ll feel worse in the morning,” Percy replied, already looking for what he needed in the depths of his trunk. “Just start undressing, alright?”

“I’m sorry?”

 

“I’m sorry?” Oliver said, sitting up now, completely awake. He repeated the question at Percy’s back, who was rummaging through his trunk.

He had emptied it almost completely when Oliver heard him say “Eureka!” His lips threatened to form a smile; a smile that didn’t come to fruition upon seeing that Percy was holding the most foul-looking green ointment in history.

Maybe it had been Percy’s almost clinical demeanor, the promise of relief, the ointment not smelling as foul as it looked, or something else entirely, but it wasn’t too long until Oliver found himself sitting, stripped down to his underwear, on Percy’s bed.

Correction: sitting, stripped down to his underwear, on Percy’s bed, and with the aforementioned man sliding his slick, oily hands all over his body. They were dexterous hands. They were strong hands for someone whose most strenuous physical activity consisted of writing five extra inches of parchment and occasionally dodging wet paper balls from his classmates. They were healing hands.

The pain had started to subside already. Oliver looked at Percy’s face. An expression of intense focus, until now reserved only for particularly tricky Arithmancy problems was now directed at him, at Oliver’s body. He felt studied, examined, scrutinized, understood… He felt himself the object of utmost interest of his roommate. And he kept touching him everywhere…

“…they’re just sitting there so how…?” he heard him mutter to himself.

“Pardon?” Oliver asked, startling Percy, who had been working on his right bicep.

“Nothing,” he replied with a higher than normal voice. He cleared his throat and lowered his pitch. “I just… you’re ver-I mean… All you do is sit up there so how are you so bloody fi--… so hurt?” he smiled on that last word, triumphant.

Oliver stared a second. Percy resumed his work, not looking like he was actually expecting an answer or even a reply.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me how are you so good at this?” Oliver replied anyway. Percy blinked fast but kept on working on his shoulder. “Fuck me, that’s amazing,” Oliver said, closing his eyes and exhaling with relief.

“I take it you don’t have brothers,” Percy said, massaging both his shoulders now.

Oliver let out a small “no.” It was hard to say anything with… that whole thing happening… He waited for Percy to continue.

“Something wrong?” Oliver asked, opening one eye.

“No, it’s just… Years sleeping in the same room and we never… I had never…” he stopped a second. “Never mind,” he resumed his blessed kneading on Oliver’s body.

“Well?” Oliver managed.

“Right, yes, well… I’m just used to tend to this kind of injuries and pains, and worse, even. A million brothers and all. Mother couldn’t cope sometimes so I stepped in. Not for years now, mind…”

“Fred and George?”

“You’d be surprised at how few times I had to. They were actually pretty careful and things only went to hell once in a while, when they figured we had had too much peace for too long. But Ron was—and is—a clumsy thing, and even Bill came to me with twisted ankles and broken fingers pretty often. I can’t imagine how he’s the one that gets into all those booby-trapped catacombs on the regular now and hasn’t killed himself. Ginny wasn’t clumsy at all but she took after Charlie, who as you can imagine was the worst of them all. I’m glad I’m not the one tending to dragon burns now…”

Percy’s face had softened. Oliver was so used to the crease between his mate’s eyebrows and the tense jaw. He looked so at ease now, so comfortable, even happy. It was contagious.

“I wish I had brothers,” Oliver commented. Percy had slipped his hands under Oliver’s armpits, now working on his sides. “Maybe then I could have had all this Quidditch-crazy out in my childhood. My Dad always saw it as too dangerous and the neighborhood kids played too aggressively to his taste. Mom had no clue about it at all, being a muggle, and just followed his lead. I came to Hogwarts and well… here we are. Quidditch-crazy…”

“You don’t seem crazy to me,” Percy said, his warm breath on Oliver’s neck. Oliver gulped. Percy kept talking: “You’re passionate. I admire that. No one here seems to be. They don’t care about anything. I wish I had your passion. Sometimes, when I almost want to throw myself off the Astronomy tower because everything’s too much and all of it seems pointless I think of you. It’s like, you always seem so determined, so happy to do the hard work. And, hey, look where it landed you!”

“Naked and at your mercy on your bed?” Oliver quipped, and went crimson-faced immediately.

Percy laughed behind him. It was a rare and wonderful sound.

“No, the Cup!” Percy said. “And… I heard the Slytherin head boy say that Puddlemere United recruiters were going to be watching the game, so… maybe—…”

“Wait, what?” Oliver almost jumped up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said with confidence. “So, you need to be in perfect shape in case they come calling, so please be still. Or actually, lie down on the floor now.”

Oliver obeyed, somewhat dumbstruck, and lay flat on his back on the floor. He didn’t notice Percy sitting—more like hovering—on top of him until he began massaging his chest. The pain and stiffness was almost all gone. He looked at Percy, whose deep look of concentration had come back to his face. He looked at Percy, who just told him he admired him, who delivered probably one of the best news he had ever received in his life, who was as intense as him sometimes, who looked rather handsome in this light, whose constant touch was making his cock twitch and his heart sing….

He sat up and planted a kiss on Percy’s lips. Percy’s eyes went huge like plates, but he didn’t pull back. Percy’s hands were still on his chest, and then Oliver felt him squeezing his pecs lightly and then slowly caressing their way to his back. His hand went up to the back of Percy’s head. They separated a few seconds later. It had been a great damn kiss. A lot of those soon followed.

Any worries about him being in pain in the morning vanished; Percy really was a miracle worker. As did the ones about someone entering the room; Oliver locked it wandlessly, which sent Percy into a frenzy of arousal. As did the ones of Percy not sending his applications on time: Oliver could help with that later; he was actually pretty good with paperwork, as Percy would discover. Even if they hadn’t had all that covered, Oliver was sure they wouldn’t have cared anyway.

Next thing he knew, Percy was as undressed as him.

That night, their celebration really outdid anything they could’ve cooked up downstairs.


End file.
